//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 
// Story: Hegira: Rising Omega 
// by Guardian_Gryphon 
//------------------------------//

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

"My Friend,

When this reaches you, time will already be growing perilously short.  So I beg you to consider my request in that light.

I once did you a great favor to help you become what you are.  The time has come for me to call on repayment of that debt.  I can discuss very little in an open missive like this, but I will tell you what is already publicly known.

For the last few months, the PER have waged a campaign of terror against our initial launch efforts, and that campaign has taken a sudden and extreme twist for the worse.  A large explosive device was detonated aboard one of our vessels only hours before this letter was penned.

We believe it was intended to go off not during loading, but rather at launch, thus obliterating the ship, and its crew.  We also believe that the only conceivable way such a large device could have been smuggled aboard, is through one or more sleeper agents operating within the project.

This raises the prospect of other potential undetonated devices, or similar means of sabotage.

Given the events at the start of the year, and some of the ensuing fallout that you may not yet be aware of, we can not depend on Earthgov to put a stop to this.  As far as I'm concerned, that makes you and yours the only qualified operators I have to call upon.

I am aware that you could simply ignore this request, and you'd have good reason to.  But I am also aware that you value Humanity's freedom, and that you value innocent lives.  That you agree with the impetus of our mission, and would see it succeed, if possible.

So I'm asking for your help.  Not as one ranking official to another, but as your friend in some simple, but steadfast capacity.

If you intend to come to our aid, lose no time.  And bring any whose expertise you feel is necessary.

--Janet Martins"

I retraced the words, forwards and backwards, over and over, as I stared into the patterns of the fire's last embers, trying to occupy my frazzled mind as I waited for Neyla to return with her travel gear.

At some point, moments after I had shared the letter with the family, but before I had even finished removing my 'go bag' from its nook, Neyla, Varan, and Kephic had reached some sort of non-verbal agreement amongst themselves.

Neyla would be accompanying me for the entirety of the trip.  My siblings would be coming halfway, and that was merely for the chance to see old friends.

I knew that on some level my brothers had elected to forego full accompaniment to make things easier for me by indulging my introversion. 

Deep down, their intentions were at least partly altruistic, and even motivated partially by a desire to keep things less politically charged by minimizing the number of infamous faces in the group.

Over-top of those kinder motivations, however, was a blatantly obvious desire to force me to spend some time alone with Neyla.  I suspected my daughter's claw in that.

We saw plenty of each other, every day, but never really spent any time alone together,  separate from other friends, family, and the bustle of everyday life.

I'd resigned myself to the decision almost instantly.  I had in no way been looking forward to taking such a plunge of my own volition, in spite of a deep desire for some closure with regard to the relationship.  

I wasn't really formally dating Neyla, and I wasn't sure which would win out in the end.  My intense desire to start, or even to skip the pleasantries and dive headlong into marriage...

Or my fear.

Forcing my claw was actually, in my mind, something of a favor.  I suppose that was a sign of progress in and of itself.  There was a time when I would have been much angrier about the idea.

Abruptly I became aware of another presence, warm in its familiarity, passing silently through the dimness of the room, lit as much by starlight and moonlight as by the remains of the hearth's fire.

Alyra planted herself firmly beside me, slumping onto her haunches, and burying her head in the soft feathers at the joint of my right wing and shoulder.  My heart always melted when she did that.  It was physically impossible to hold a negative emotion when I had such a deep and comforting reminder of such precious love.

In spite of the warmth of the moment, I took note of the small rucksack beside the fledgeling, but decided to remain silent for a few seconds, and simply soak in one last peaceful moment before the rigors of travel.

To my surprise, my daughter broke the silence first.

"I'll be fine.  You know that...  Right?"

I only had a moment of flustered silence to try to grasp her meaning, before she abruptly clarified, her words tumbling over each other, brook-like, with an endearing mix of emotion, and youth, yet surprising maturity.  She was so old of soul.  Sometimes it was endearing.  But sometimes it hurt to remember why she was the way she was.

"I just mean...  I'm not like a Human child anymore.  I'm not sure I ever was to begin with, but I'm not the same as I was when we first met...  I'm stronger.  *You,* and Neyla, and Kephic, and Varan...  You've made me stronger."

I forced myself to look down at the tears I knew were gathering in her eyes, biting back my own as best I could while she continued, her voice dancing on the edge of love, and laughter, and weeping all at once.

"In *some* ways I'm still a fledgeling, but in others I'm *not!*  And even fledglings go to war sometimes.  Humans, and Ponies, they shield their young...  But we strengthen and arm them!  And Dad?  You and Mo--  And Neyla...  You've done such a good job!"

Losing outward control of my emotions entirely, I opted to simply let the tears flow as I did my best to muster a proud smile while Alyra's words jumbled onwards to a conclusion.  I'm not sure what it was that finally got to me;  The way she caught herself referring to Neyla as 'Mom,' or the eloquence with which she proved her own inner strength, and eviscerated all my unspoken arguments, in the same lilting collection of words.

"You are such *good* parents, and family...  We are a family.  And that means we live together...  We fight together...  And if we have to?  We die together...  And if not, we carry memories on.  You can shield me, and teach me, and love me, without locking me away in a tower for the rest of my life.  Because I can handle risk.  Adventure.  Responsibility...  Even if I had to be the one to outlive you.  What I can't handle?  Is missing out on it all.  Missing out on *our* adventure."

Distantly, I was aware that Neyla, Kephic, and Varan were watching from the door, having arrived somewhere over the course of Alyra's last exhalation.  

Rather than acknowledging them, I focused wholly on my daughter, pulling her close to my chest, and wrapping my wings firmly around her.

We held that position for a long moment, each struggling to reign in the tears.  At last, Alyra pulled away slightly, cradling her weight against my wings, and taking my right claw in hers.  With a wan smile, she pressed it up against her heart, as if to reassure me.

"You don't have to run, any more than I do now."

The way that the words, and the gesture mirrored my own first words and gestures to her, left me again struggling, and failing, to contain tears.

She was right.  I knew she was right.  The surety settled over my whole being, and seeped down into my soul with a cool, comforting clarity that would brook no argument from the latent angry monkey brain still buried somewhere at the back of my psyche.

She was right.

It was time to let go of some fears.  I said a silent prayer of thanks.  I knew full well that such moments of growth were God-given gifts of grace.

Letting go of a ragged breath, and a great many burdens with it, I released my daughter, rose, and moved purposefully to my worktable, finally managing to get my breathing under control enough to speak without my voice cracking completely.

"You know, I wanted to save this for your birthday.  But I'm sure I can come up with something else, because you should have this now."

Releasing the catch on one of the desk's many complex compartments, I reverently extracted a long, thin package wrapped in oiled cloth.

Turning and kneeling by the hearth, I extended the object to my daughter in both claws, allowing her to gingerly peel back the covering to reveal a slightly curved short sword, lying on top of its custom leather scabbard, its naturally silvery mirror-finish alloy glistening a reflective gold in the fire-light.

The weapon was perfectly shaped, and sized, just small enough to be wielded as a long-sword by a younger Gryphon, but large enough to be grown into as a one-claw short-sword in adulthood.  An intricately patterned claw-guard extended downward, and wove through the pommel as a single seamless piece of metal, emerging out the bottom as a second, dagger-length blade with an opposing curve to the main structure.

I'd seen the way Alyra looked at Neyla's double-sided blades with awe, and no small amount of envy.

She lifted the sword with a similar expression of awe, and gratitude, and joy, giving it an experimental series of swings, before stilling herself so I could tie down her rucksack, and her new scabbard.

With a grin, and no small quantity of leftover tears on her face, the young Gryphoness sheathed her sword at her back, the action producing a satisfying rasp of metal on leather, followed by a click as the holding mechanism engaged.

That motion, that familiar rasp and click as the weapon fell into place, the little self-assured grin...  At that moment I knew that she wasn't a child anymore.  

She would always be my daughter.  But she was no longer a fledgling.  She had achieved more than enough growth to be accorded the trust, and responsibilities, of a young adult.

The group moved into the hall wordlessly, though I had time to catch deeply approving, loving, smiles from Neyla, and my siblings, before silently taking the lead.  I was glad to have the forward position.  It helped me hide my fresh tears.





With a chilly and bright dawn, a sharp southern wind had descended from the frozen mountains, whipping at the pennants and banners of Canterlot's glittering spires.  The snap and rustle of the fabric was a comforting sound to the morning Royal Guard contingent.

The zephyr produced a much less comforting sound as it passed over the bodies of the castle's newest arrivals; An otherworldly crackle and snick, not dissimilar to a breeze amongst autumn leaves, but not quite the same either.

Though the Changelings of IJ's rebellious breakaway hive looked considerably less menacing than their more numerous counterparts, they were still obviously not Ponies.  And they clearly had just as much lethal potential as their more hostile cousins, if not more.

Inside Joke herself, or IJ for short, was an intimidating figure, marching in the center of a small phalanx of her own guards.  At first glance, she looked similar to Celestia; Snow-white, tall, lithe, and possessed of both a horn and wings.

Unlike Celestia, the Changeling Queen's wings were decidedly insectoid.  But unlike most other hive queens, IJ's wings were evocative more of a butterfly, or a garden beetle, with hints of a pseudo-feathered structure like a Pegasus.  

No trace whatsoever lingered of the more common Changeling structures, which often evoked a diseased locust, or some sort of alien wasp.

Closer inspection showed that IJ had a shocking blue mane, and that in lieu of fur, her body was comprised of sleek pearly chitin plating, that dipped and swooped from seamless panel to seamless panel, like a perfect suit of skin-hugging ceramic armor.

The members of her guard were, like all those in her hive, also decidedly different to expectations.  Their bodies were also plated in smooth curving plates, each a unique muted pastel color.  Their wings were like smaller, more compact versions of IJ's own, and in place of a mane, horn, or spikes, arcing graceful crests of chitin adorned their heads.

The phalanx had morphed extra body armor, appropriate to their duties as protectors, which gave them added bulk and stature as compared to their base forms.

Celestia's guards looked on silently, their standard impassive expressions doing nothing to betray their inner fear, suspicion, and even slight envy.  Though loathe to discuss it, they knew that one of IJ's guards was worth a dozen of them in combat.

Arrayed in two honor guard rows, the Ponies watched intently as IJ and her procession made their way to the main Castle entrance, where Celestia and Luna stood flanked by their guard captains, waiting to meet their guests.

As the three Royal beings exchanged diplomatic pleasantries, two Royal guards watched from afar, perched at a watchpoint on a tower balcony.

The larger one, a male Pegasus, spoke to his companion in a low, steady tone.

"It seems as if their negotiations will proceed then."

The second guard, a female Unicorn, nodded and glowered, her tone and expression less restrained as she aired her thoughts.

"I suppose it suits our purposes better this way.  But if I were in the Princess' positions, I would hardly extend such trust to our... 'Guests.' "

The male nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the negotiations, making a mental note of all that was said as he read the speakers' lips.  After a long moment, he responded.

"Well, as you said, things will proceed.  Have you made your preparations?"

His companion inclined her head, and smiled slightly.

"Yes, and checked everything thrice.  Though I find this spoken-word practice to be irritating."

The Pegasus allowed himself a small smile, and turned to face his companion as the Royal entourage moved out of his sightline.

"Be ready to move at my signal, but not before.  The timing matters."

He paused, then turned to enter the tower.  As he finished his thought, the back of his eyes caught a glint of sunlight at just the right angle, flashing an unearthly green for the briefest of moments.

"We want to be sure their highnesses make just the right inferences once the dust settles.  Peace between the traitors and the one-forms is not in our best interest."





Earth Calendar: 2113
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 4th, Gregorian Calendar

Hutch

"Just one moment sir.  Thank you for your patience."

I raised one eyebrow, and exchanged a half-smirk, half-scowl with my companion.  Aston grimaced, and shook her head.  We had been twiddling our collective thumbs in the antechamber for almost half an hour, our only point of contact the disembodied intercom voice of a secretary.

The reorganization of Earth's Navy, Marines, and ConSec under the JRSF had come with a huge shit-heap of unpleasantness for all of us, but especially us Humans.  

I knew that the worst of it, in Aston's mind, was the way the new 'Military Integrity Commission' had turned its investigations into an outright witch hunt.

A lot of experienced flag officers had been cashiered out of JRSF service by MIC panels, based on only the slightest unwitting association with HLF infiltrators, or E-12 contacts.  In most cases, as far as we knew, the majority of the discharged officers had never realized they were working side by side with operatives from the terrorist groups.

Though even I wondered sometimes...  How could you spend years working beside someone and not see some hint of the hatred?

Paranoia had been the word of the day.  The Council's high-horse demands to retain, and even tighten their control over the Army, Air Force, and the Military Police, hadn't exactly helped to cultivate a kumbaya kind of mood.

Political and old-guard flag-level sentiment ran sharply against the removal of the officers.  Nobody with half a brain was surprised by that.

But troop-level sentiment demanded blood for blood.  Most JRSF soldiers were happier under an Equestrian CO than a Human one, according to the latest poll data.  That didn't surprise me anymore.  It might've once, but I'd spent enough time around the Equestrians, especially the feathered and scaled ones, to understand why the rank and file practically worshipped them.

Gryphons especially, but some Dragons too, had this kind of pre-programmed morality-lock.  They couldn't be bought, bullied, or intimidated.  Truly incorruptible.  

When you dedicate your life to killing others, and risking your neck, to protect people?  You appreciate the idea that the people in charge over you are incapable of taking a bribe, or giving in to certain darker impulses.

I'd thought about converting myself more than a little bit in the intervening years.  I'd seen enough to know that it would have to be soon, or I'd risk being left behind in the career sense.

The public was split more evenly in their opinions, or so the talking heads were telling us, but enough of a thin majority had emerged to lend momentum to the anti-oldguard movement within the MIC.  

I had barely held onto my own gold bars by the skin of my teeth, and the benefit of my strong association with Equestrian military contacts.

Aston and I had discussed and chewed the cud on the purge at length, and we eventually agreed that at least part of the tipping force was born of justifiable fear;  Fear of unilateral reprisals, chiefly the ones the Gryphons might levy, if something like the E-12 scandal were to ever surface again.

Equestria's winged guardians were damn quick to shed blood in defense of that strict moral code, and they would answer to no negotiation, and take no excuses, when it came to enforcing parts of that code.  

Even enforcing adherence in other sovereign nations at the sharp end of the sword, the beak, and the claw.  

These guys did not piss around with questions about the ethics of inserting themselves into other nations' affairs.  I envied that;  The simplicity of having just decided to help others, and accept the consequences both good, and bad.

But the fact remained that the overzealous paranoia of the MIC, combined with the generally anti-Human swing in the populace, both civilian and martial, had acted as an inescapable career-ending filter against any officer, Captain or above, who had ever said or done anything on-record that could be interpreted as anti-Equestrian.  And that I didn't envy at all.

I guess I was just lucky that I was best friends with the guy who started the fire in the first place.

But the leftovers of that brushfire had ended up placing vast burdens of command and administration on a small chokepoint of remaining qualified individuals formerly from Earthgov military command, and the few new additions to the upper ranks of the command staff from the JRSF.

Aston had asked me to try to remember the last time she, or I had slept a full night.  I hated that I couldn't.

And we knew our direct superior had it ten times worse on even the best of days.

"He'll see you now.  Thanks for waiting."

We rose in silent unison, both reflexively tugging on the bottom of our new uniform jackets to straighten them, as we made their way to the office's double sliding frosted glass doors.

I liked the new standard JRSF uniforms;  A light gray urban camouflage base fabric, with thin textile armor plating in matte darker gray, a high mandarin collar with a division or specialty pin on the left, and rank bars on the right, and a crimson stripe across the left breast, and down the left shoulder, separated on one side with division-colored piping.

Dark gray trousers with their own light armor paneling, and a plain dark navy belt with a silver buckle finished out the standard getup.  It was good looking kit.

The non-Human personnel wore something similar, though usually it looked and behaved even more like light duty armor.  Equestrians were, for the most part, not big on clothes.  Armor was as close as many of them ever got.

The doors slid away to reveal the inner office.  The space was much larger than a corresponding room would have been pre-integration, allowing it to host Gryphons and Dragons without squeezing the other occupants of the room to death.  We were all grateful for those changes.

It was only irritating to the Dragons or Gryphons, squeezing into a smaller space with us.  For us monkeys, it was downright scary.

We came to a stop before the room's central desk, and proffered casual but respectful salutes before seating ourselves.

Five-Star General Arnshekh was not like most Dragons I'd met.  

He seemed to take a more Gryphic view of ceremony and pomp, preferring to dispense with it where possible.  According to him, it was a commonality Gold Dragons and Gryphons shared, and it was a contributing factor in a long-running alliance of theirs.

Gryphons fighting side by side with thirty five ton golden living attack cruisers that breathe Greek Fire.  Now there was a scary thought.

Like others of his species, however, he had a cool-headed logic that had led Aston to nickname him 'Mister Vulcan' behind his back.  It had probably been the chief factor of consideration in granting him such a high level JRSF commission, based on no other merits than the rank he held within his own kind's loosely organized military structure, and his age.

Hell of a lateral career move.

The big gold lizard's calm, understanding, practical demeanor was an oasis for us from the stress, frayed tempers, and exhaustion that pervaded most flag officers.  Talking with him wasn't just a livable experience, when that was hardly the case for Human officers.  It was downright therapeutic.  You could feel your stress melting away.

Arnshekh worked his shoulder and wing joints, and sighed, allowing a deep rumble of exhaustion to churn briefly in his chest cavity before speaking.  

The vibrations of his voice shook the whole chamber.  Like most Dragons the General sat directly on a cushion on the floor, to prevent his eyes from being ridiculously elevated above any Human guests by his own stature, which only served to amplify the bass notes of his words in our ribs.

"I'm sorry.  That took much longer than I would have anticipated.  For a military organization supposedly autonomous and free of politics, we seem to suddenly spend a great deal of time answering to the frightened whims of politicians, don't we?"

Aston nodded, and mumbled something under her breath that I couldn't catch.  Arnshekh did, and it seemed to amuse him.  A slight twinkle entered his huge green eyes, and danced along the undertones of his voice.

"I've come to accept it as a fact of life.  Honestly, I never had any expectations to the contrary.  The eldest and wisest of your kind would be counted as naught but children among mine, and centuries away from the maturity needed to hold high station.  But you age differently, and there is nothing to be done about that which isn't already being done.  We have more pressing concerns."

Arnshekh drummed one claw slowly on the desk's surface, pausing to collect his thoughts, before continuing, fixing both of us with his gaze in turn.

"You have both had extensive experience with a red Gryphon named 'Fyrenn,' have you not?"

I smiled ruefully, almost reflexively, and nodded.

"Oh yes.  You could say that."

Aston inclined her head, and added her own affirmation.

"I'd go so far as to call him one of our closest friends.  In spite of his lack of popularity with most flag officers."

The Gold Dragon smiled slightly, and nodded, a notable sense of relief entering his tone.

"Good.  The situation will benefit from delicacy, and mutual understanding."

I cocked my head slightly, and tensed involuntarily.

"Situation, sir?"

Arnshekh inclined his head, a small cluster of scales near his jaw hinge working back and forth as if to visually display that the Dragon was thinking deeply as he spoke.

"You are undoubtedly up to date on the latest information on the attempted bombing at the Genesist project.  What you don't know is that Councilor Martins has rashly opted to bypass due channels, and instead call in a personal favor to 'solve' the problem.  That favor being Fyrenn.  She at least did us the courtesy of notifying us...  But little else."

Aston sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, gritting out her words without putting in much effort to filter her frustration from them.

"You know, on a fundamental level I like him.  I do.  But the last thing anyone wants, or needs right now, is his particular brand of 'solution.'  We'll end up with a body count bigger than the Bubonic Plague, and a political shit-storm the size of the Moon.  Again."

Arnshekh shook his head slowly, exhaling in a rare audible display of his own frustration.

"No;  That's what you and Hutchinson will be there to prevent.  Gryphons listen to no one save those they respect.  You are his friends.  Ergo he respects you.  Ergo he will listen to you."

I held up a hand and stiffened.  The General was getting into cart-before-the-horse territory.  Fast.

"Hang on now.  Gryphons don't always listen to those they respect either.  Last time, there wasn't a damned thing we could do to cool him down until he'd accomplished what he wanted.  I'm convinced that no one but God could've managed that, and since He didn't step in..."

The Golden Dragon gave my response several moments' consideration, before dismissing it with a wave of one claw.

"Then, his daughter's life was in peril.  Many of my kind, and doubtless all of his, would have done exactly the same in such circumstances.  Myself included.  This is an issue of importance for him, true, but he is far from the unstable condition he was in last time.  I am confident you'll be able to temper his aggression, and Martins' desire to exploit said aggression to make some sort of statement."

Hated to admit it, but he had solid points.  He always did.

Arnshekh reached under the desk, pulled forth a DaTab, then shoved the object across to me.

"Your orders.  Report to Waystation Epsilon Five, in Durham.  Escort him, and anyone he brought with him, to the Genesist Facility.  Fast air transport will be provided to you by the JRSF 17th Air Division.  Refueling stopovers are available in Bogota, and aboard Yorktown.  When he and party arrive, remain to oversee JRSF interests, offer assistance in the investigation, and discreetly ensure a quiet outcome, if possible."

I read the DaTab, got the gist, nodded in the affirmative and passed it to Aston.  As she perused the contents, she raised one eyebrow expectantly.

"Why both of us?  The Charlotte evacuation is getting underway in just over two weeks.  We're starting the final moving process for the new JRSF Centcom in one.  We're critically short on experienced staff.  Shouldn't at least one of us be here?  Or at the new HQ?"

Arnshekh mimicked Aston's gesture, raising a small cluster of scales over his right eye.

"You just argued, and rather eloquently, that your friend will be difficult to restrain.  Which do you think is more important...  Paperwork?  Or the safety of our tenuous political 'peace,' such as it is, and the billions of Human lives which that peace is protecting?"

Aston winced, and nodded.

"Point well made sir."

His points always were.





Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

A thick, ghostly pre-dusk fog had settled on the mountain by the time it came into view.  The setting sun, and the first tendrils of the moon's gray light, gave the hanging moisture a silvery lacework throughout, as if someone had spilled dribbles of mercury from a cosmic vat.

Spires and minarets, all fashioned of white marble, reflected only a dull glint through the haze.

I had never quite understood the science behind a Gryphon's sight, but as always, I was grateful for its strange and wonderful capacity to pierce veils of near-opacity.

It proved especially useful for safe navigation, even when the light coming off an object ought to have been too distorted or scattered to resolve an image, by conventional metrics.

Our arrival received only passing glances from the castle guards.  The armored Ponies apparently had other, more pressing preoccupations, and the sight of Gryphons had become steadily less unusual over the course of the preceding years.

My family and I were on good enough terms with the Royal Sisters to merit unrestricted access to the Castle.  The guards knew our names, and faces, as was the case for all who were granted such privileges.

We made our way unchallenged to Celestia's innermost study.  The monarch could usually be found there, preferring its inviting warm tones, and perceived level footing, to the more ceremonial nature of the throne room.

I indulged in a beaming, genuine smile as Alyra shot ahead of me into the room, tumbling into a playful brawl-turned-embrace with two Equine forms who she was in real danger of surpassing in size within a year's time.

It did my heart good to see the whole family group together in one room once more.

Skye and Stan both leaned into the gesture, giggling unrestrainedly.  I noted with some surprise, and satisfaction, that Carradan looked fitter and more trim than he'd ever been before.  

Though the salmon Pegasus still possessed what a Human might call a hefty, stocky 'linebacker's build,' it had been toned to a full on warrior's fit and finish since the last time I saw him.

I exchanged a smirking glance, and a shrug, with Equestria's two monarchs, who watched with barely concealed amusement from their more dignified positions on an ornate settee.

The room's fifth original occupant made her way over to the tumble of wings and fur on the floor, and paused to extract Alyra gently, before doling out her own graceful, much less energetic, but no less loving hug.

Internally I sighed in contentment, reflecting with wonder and amusement that once, in what seemed like a lifetime past, I would have snapped a Changeling's neck for coming within a mile of any foal or fledgeling.  Let alone my own.

And yet, I felt no latent fear, disgust, or even mild concern at IJ's gesture.  If anything it stirred hope that the political situation between the reformed Changelings and our own kind mind yet find a permanent stable claw-hold.

Skye, finally extricating herself from gravity, and mirth, sat up and locked eyes with me.  Her visage fell slightly, and a serious thrum of anticipation entered her voice.

"You didn't just come here to surprise us, did you."

The words came out more as a statement than a question, nevertheless I nodded in absolute confirmation, deftly removing Martins' message from my satchel, and tossing it to the Unicorn in one smooth motion.

Skye caught the document in her thaumatic field, unfurled it, and read it, in a similarly smooth extension of that motion, before rolling it up and passing it politely to Celestia and Luna.

"I'll just be a few minutes."

I nodded to the blue and tan Unicorn, trading a fist-to-hoof bump with her grimly. 
As she passed and headed for the doors, I tossed a final admonishment over my shoulder.

"Pack light if you can.  Just the bare essentials."

Stan seemed to catch on to the general direction of things abruptly, and his face fell.  The Pegasus sighed, and sat back on his haunches as he spoke.

"Don't suppose you can stay at all then?"

I reached out with a fisted claw to bump my good friend's hoof, and inclined my head, permitting a cheerier tone to reach my reply.

"Kephic and Varan plan to stick around with you.  I think they've missed you almost as much as I have."

Carradan snorted and smirked, mumbling his retort, but not truly bothering to drop the register of his voice enough to mask it.

"More likely they want you to spend a little more alone-time with pretty-in-blue over there.  I can get behind that.  I need drinking buddies like a man dying in a desert needs water."

Luna dipped her head towards Kephic and Varan, "Your presence would be welcome, particularly as a symbolic show of Gryphon support for our current negotiations."

IJ likewise inclined her head in silent acknowledgement.

For her part, Celestia proffered me a curiously piercing glance, then tilted her head to the side, before rising without explanation.  I followed the Solar Monarch to a far corner of the room, as the rest of the group split off into their own continued conversations.

"This is an extremely disturbing turn of events."

Nodding, I exhaled slowly, lowering the volume of my response to match the private tone of Celestia's own words.

"That is what we in military circles call 'a hell of an understatement.'  The PER have no intention of letting those ships leave in one piece, and they won't hesitate to do *anything* to keep things going in their favor."

Celestia nodded sagely and flicked one ear in thought.

"Yes.  That is doubtless why you in particular have been summoned.  Your reputation is also one of achieving your goal with little or no thought to the rules, or cost, beyond your basic moral code."

I sighed, and shook my head slowly, doing my genuine best to inject a partial air of respect overtop of the frustration in my voice.  I knew exactly where the conversation was going, and I didn't have the overhead to re-litigate it.

"You want to admonish me, chastise me, and maybe even beg me, to be careful and discreet on this trip.  You want to make sure I consider wider political ramifications, and not just the needs of Martins and her people.  And you want me to keep an eye open as to any ways I can mitigate the damage I've already done.  Does that about cover it?"

Celestia smirked slightly, and proffered a tiny wink as she brushed past me on her way back to the center of the room.

"You are a fast learner, my friend."

Though tempting, I ultimately resisted the impulse to reply, keeping the words firmly locked inside my own head.

'Only when I want to be.'